


Bulletproof Heroes - BTS AU

by PineapplesForWeeks



Series: BTS Shorts, ideas, stories, etc. [3]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Fire Powers, Fluff, M/M, Mutants, Other, Sad, Superheroes, Violence, Water, help me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineapplesForWeeks/pseuds/PineapplesForWeeks
Summary: Mutants are hunted by the government and hated by the people all over the word. Organisations are created to capture them and use them in any way they please, or to simply kill them off.No mutant is safe.However, there are some that fight against these oppressors and try to gain back their freedom. Others simply want to stay hidden, safe, and unknown.Sadly, that doesn't always happen, which might be why our seven young men got in trouble. For the most part, anyway. Some were to nice for they own good. Others just wanted to hit something.For more information on our heroes please visit this link:https://www.wattpad.com/story/151120297-bulletproof-heroes-files-characters-mutant





	1. Epiphany

If Seokjin had to chose between staying in the suffocating place that had been his family or meeting his six friends, brothers, even, by finding out about his mutant ability, causing him pain and suffering, he'd have to chose the second option.

Why, you may ask? Simply because he wanted to take care of them, and if he didn't have any powers, how was he supposed to do that?

Of course, these thoughts belong to the Kim Seokjin of 2015 and beyond. The Seokjin of before and until 2014 would much prefer go back to his house, back to his parents, without any stupid mutations or trauma sticking with him.

That's the guy we'll be with for a while, the Seokjin that wanted to stay low, safe, and quiet when it came to whatever thing he thought was wrong with him.

The first time it happened was when he was 12, with baby fat still in his cheeks and rectangular glasses that didn't quite fit his face.

The first time his powers manifested was while he was helping with Park Minseo's garden, an elderly lady who lived not to far from his house. Seokjin liked visiting her on the weekends and enjoyed learning how to re pot plants, what some could do, were they came from, what sort of ancient legends followed them. It was a simple, peaceful thing to do, and calmed him whenever the house became too much.

Minseo-yang had asked him to work on one of the flowers, a beautiful but dying pink orchid that Seokjin had started to prefer over the others while she went back to get some more water and equipment. Seokjin had protested, politely declaring that he could do it for her, but she told him that she noticed how much he liked that flower and that maybe he'd like to spend some time with it. She had jokingly winked as she said this, and Seokjin's ears burned red in pure, barely concealed indignation and embarrassement

But he did as she said and took care of the orchid. He put what remained of the water onto it's soil, readjusted its browning petals, added some nutriments into the dirt.

"You know," he said to the flower, "it's kind of sad how a flower like you can just start to die. You've been taken good care of by Minseo-yang." He adjusted the leaves again, but simply ended up making one of its pretty petals fall. He led out a startled yelp before glaring at it and poking one of its leaves gently.

"Why are you like this?" he stupidly asked the flower. 

The last thing he would've expected was for the flower to answer back.

He jumped away, startled by the weird hum that had came from it and through his hand, up his brain, making him feel more than hear the answer it gave back.

_I am cold._

Seokjin blinked at it.

"Well," he said, not knowing why he had replied to a flower because no why this was a flower, "it might be because it's getting closer and closer to fall?"

_Dying. Heal me._

"You're a plant," Seokjin stated, as if that answered everything, as if talking to a plant was perfectly normal and no, he wasn't insane, not at all.

_HEAL ME._

Seokjin instantly slapped his hands over his ears, his head pounding and ears whistling. The plant wasn't  supposed to shout. It didn't have mouth. 

_HEAL ME!_

But it felt as if its scream was taking over his head and thoughts, ordering him to heal it, to make it better, but it was a plant. A stupidly pink orchid with browning petals and no conscience!

_HEAL ME!_

"Alright, fine!" he said loudly, almost shouting. It stopped. "Fine," he said again, a bit more calmly. "Just... wait a second, please."

He sat there, staring at the old glass ceiling of the small homemade terrarium (they lived in a rich and spacious neighbourhood, so Minseo-yang's late husband had enough space to build one), until he was ready to get up and walking to a plant and try to heal it, in whatever way he could. There was no way that flower was screaming at him again.

He hesitantly extended his hands towards it, waiting for the flower to make his head hurt again. Nothing happened.

Not really knowing what he was doing, he nervously made a sort of dome with his hands around the flower's base, on top of its hidden roots.

"Uh... Heal?" he said quietly, hoping it worked.

Nothing happened. Seokjin felt like the most insane awkward guy to ever walk the planet.

But right before he took his hands away, frustrated and confused, something finally happened. His hands, arms, every singly bone in his body sparked with pain. He closed his eyes tightly, but not before he noticed how the veins in his hands had started to glow a greenish hue. His eyes felt as if they were being pushed out of his skull.

The pain was gone as soon as it started, thankfully. When he opened his eyes and looked at the flower, it was fine, even more beautiful then when it had been fully formed a few months ago.

A feeling of appreciation shot through his head, definitely not hurting this time and definitely not his. Despite the nice, almost warm emotion, Seokjin stumbled back and stared at his pale hands. They looked normal again, no glowing lines or anything else that was completely abnormal, unnatural, everything his parents had warned him about.

"What did I just-" He couldn't finish the question, interrupted by the sound of a few cars rolling down the road and parking themselves in front of Minseo-yang's house. He hurried to the exit of the terrarium and opened the wood and glass door. He walked out, barely noticed Minseo-yang as she stepped next to him with a bucket filled with tools and a watering can.

Instead, he noticed the words on the side of the three large black SUVs, the International Mutant Capturing Association logo plastered next to it.

"What are they doing here?" Minseo-yang wondered, dropping what she was holding gently onto the ground.

"I-I don't-"

The elderly lady interrupted him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I think you do." She patted his cheek, and told him that he should go back home.

"I don't want them to hurt you because of something you can't help, do I, Seokjin-ah?" she said to him.

Seokjin barely had a chance to say anything before the old lady gently but firmly pushed him into the small terrarium.

"Hide. They won't know you exist, alright?"

And she left. Seokjin did as she said, hiding behind a bunch of old pots and empty plastic bags.

_Hide him. Hide our Prince._

Seokjin jumped at the messages passing through the plants around him. He saw the vines start to creep up on the ground and wrap itself around the pots and his limbs. The leaves, as they touched his skin, grew a bit more.

Seokjin didn't resist, knowing that these supposed-to-be-inanimate-plants were helping him, because, as they put it, he was their 'Prince'.

Flipping heck this was weird. 

"Hello," he heard Minseo-yang say. "How can I help you young men?"

"Is there anyone else around here?" a man asked.

"No. Just me."

Seokjin heard heavy footsteps and the clicks of something made of metal.

"Sorry, but you're coming with us," the man from before ordered, not sounding sorry at all. The shuffling of feet, the opening and closing of a car door, the roar of an engine. In a few minutes, all the vehicles had driven away.

Seokjin wrestled with the plants surrounding him. It didn't take much effort getting them off. they slid away on their own accord, going back to their original places.

The boy ran out of the terrarium and stared at the tire tracks on the dirt.

"Shit," was the only thing he managed to say before running back home.

It was only when he arrived at the door, panting, did he realise something. Had an epiphany, you might say.

"I'm a mutant."

And then, he passed out.


	2. Nevermind

Forward, keep going.

That was the only thing Yoongi was thinking as he ran, faster than he had ever ran before. This was saying something, since he had to run quite often in this damned life. From school bullies who didn't stop, to that one guy that had tried to steal his wallet, to the people who saw him do his magic. 

Like the ones  who were chasing him right now, except that these were a different type. They weren't just random, racist (mutantist?) and overly aggressive civilians who came by at the wrong time. He's had to deal with those people for four years, ever since he was 13. He knew how to act with them.

 No, these guys were armed and had this odd armour on and it was  _terrifying._

Yoongi turned into an alley and pressed his small and scrawny frame against the wall. He felt the bricks press against his back. They were cold and humid from the rain that had fallen a few days ago. Yoongi almost swore but kept quiet, determined not to die by the hands of these guys. The humidity soaked through his shirt and he hissed at the sting, immediately getting away from the wall.

He  _hated_  water. 

He crouched down, trying to blend in with the shadows of the alley with his dark clothes.

He heard footsteps.

"I think the little demon went in here," one of the armed men told another.

"I don't think so. See the humidity and puddles? This mutant's got fire powers, he ain't gonna risk that type of environment."

"Maybe. Let's keep going. I swear, if we end up losing him-"

"We won't." Something sinister leaked through on of the men's voice. "He can't hide from the IMCA much longer."

They walked away.

Yoongi held his breath until he was sure they were gone before struggling to get up without touching anything wet. He tried to calm his beating heart and his ragged breath.

"Shit." They had found him. "Shit, oh my God, oh  _shit"._ He would never be able to hide again or go home.

He needed to find Namjoon and Donghyuk.

\---

Yoongi turned the doorknob as quietly as he could and entered his family's house. He didn't want his mother and father to wake up. Luckily, since his brother was off to college, there was one less person to worry about.

He went to his room and took his backpack and duffel bag, stuffing them with clothes and the money he had kept ever since he was a little kid in case something like this happened. He put a leather jacket over his hoodie, a black cap and a mask to hide his face, and went back downstairs.

"Yoongi-ah?"

Yoongi froze. He turned around and saw his mother standing in front of her bedroom's opened door.

"Where are you going with your packed bags?" she asked him, her voice and face worried.

"Mom, I-I need to-" He tried to keep his voice steady and expression empty, but failed. His eyes were wet.

"I need to go find Namjoon and Donghyuk, Mom," he managed to choke out. "It's not safe for me to stay here, with you and dad."

"Oh, honey, no." She hugged him tight, and he couldn't keep the tears from falling.

"They're after me, mom, I need to leave and find Namjoon, okay? I-I'm so-sorry."

"It's good, it's okay, Yoongi-ah." She let him go and placed her hands on either side of his face. Her face was blank, but her voice shook. "You have everything, right? Clothes, money, remember to only pay in cash-"

"Yes, mom."

"Alright." She hugged him again. "Stay safe, you little gremlin." Yoongi smiled at her as best as he could.

"I will mom, don't worry."

"I love you," she said, and oh how that made Yoongi feel guilty.

"Love you too."

Before he changed his mind and decided to stay with his mom, Min Yoongi turned around and left his home, his family, behind.


	3. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very happy with this one but it'll do.  
> Just so y'all know, these first seven chapters won't be following eachother chronologically. I don't know why I wrote it like this, but hopefully I can work with it :')

Namjoon swung the hammer one last time, shattering whatever remained of the only mirror in his home.

He breathed heavily. His hands shook so much, he couldn't keep his grasp on the hammer and it dropped with a loud 'clang'. The sound resonated across the old, abandoned container he had transformed into his own little living space.

He rubbed his forehead with his hand, sliding down against the wall until he was siting on the ground, head in between his knees and trembling.

He glanced at the shattered mirror piece on the ground and shivered violently.

_The voices._

He hastily wiped away the tear sliding down his cheek.

"Why did I do that?" he whispered to himself. He sighed and rubbed his forehead again. He could've kept the damn mirror to learn about- whatever it was he could do, like a smart person. Instead, he had destroyed his only source of practice.

"I should- clean up. Yeah," he told himself, forcing his ass off of the dirty floor. 

The upside of living alone- You can talk to yourself without someone thinking that you're crazy.

He put all of the mirror shards under his small excuse for a dresser. Unsafe and lazy, he knew, but his gut was telling him to do so.

He used to not really realise he had gut feelings, or that they were worth listening to. Let's think about this in a logical way, slightly younger Namjoon would say. Slightly younger Namjoon, however, did not yet have mutant abilities that allowed him to see through reflective surfaces, see things that definitely weren't his own reflection.

He wished it were his own reflection. 

Namjoon chuckled as he lied down on the mattress he considered his bed, despite it only being a mattress. Not so long ago, he hated seeing his own reflection. Now, he desperately wanted to.

If his mutation had come earlier, like it was supposed to, he probably would have a better understanding of them now instead of being a completely clueless, 17 year old kid.

Namjoon was honestly kind of thankful for his parents, despite their apparent renunciation of his existence. They had made sure that he could get a container like this to use and live in, since it was cheap and far away from them. Well, his mother did at least. His father couldn't care less at this point.

Maybe he should call Donghyuk.

The moment this idea bloomed in his mind, he knew he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't, not when he knew that calling the guy would be dragging himself into a world of trouble.

He reached into his dresser and found the little piece of paper with Donghyuk's number and an address on it stuck to its floor. He remembered with vivid clarity the day when he had gotten it. 

It was during the odd in between time when his father had discovered his mutation and his mother had been searching for a relatively cheap place for him to stay. He had been on the streets and homeless, he realised a few moths later, but the idea hadn't sunk in yet.

When you're young and on the streets, people see you as easy pray. Easy to mug, beat, rape and hurt. Namjoon had been beaten and mugged once, a week after being kicked out of the house.

His explanation for it back then had been that they had found out that he was a mutant, because there was no way that anyone would just attack a kid like this, unprovoked and with so much vigour. He could now see that he had been wrong. There was nothing about him that could hint at him having powers, appearance wise.

Those people had just wanted a kid to beat, and a homeless little boy had been the easiest target.

Namjoon remembered the pain, the feeling of almost passing out and the insults those men had thrown his way. He also remembered a man, not much older than he was, stepping in with a shout and a well aimed punch. A minuted later, and his attackers were gone, replaced with the face of his saviour. Who also happened to be quite good looking, but he would never tell him that.

"Thank you," he had rasped out instead, taking the good looking man's hand.

"You're welcome. What's your name?"

"... Namjoon."

"Do you have a place to go, Namjoon?" What a stupid question, Namjoon remembered thinking.

"No," he had answered.

"Do you want to come to my place so that you can get healed back up?" the young man had asked.

"No."

"...Alright. I can heal you here, then?"

Namjoon had stared at him, narrowing his eyes and trying to find out what type of game this guy was playing, followed by a shock, like freezing water pooling through his head and down his neck. The feeling left, replaced with the certainty that he could trust this guy.

He still wasn't to go back to his house with him, though.

He remembered the young man laying him down on the ground in a sitting position, asking permission to touch his broken hand. He had no first-aid kit with him. Namjoon didn't get the chance to ask before the young man's hand touched his and a series of snaps and crunches filled the alley. 

"Can you wiggle your fingers for me?" the young man had asked. Namjoon had done so, and to his enormous surprise, had felt no pain. He had looked at his hand and had seen a perfectly normal, not-broken one.

The young man had continued to heal him, humming a tune Namjoon had recognised and kind of wished he hadn't.

"Are you humming 'Gee' by Girl's Generation?" he had asked him, bewildered. The young man had grinned, and Namjoon had immediately known that he now trusted this guy with his life.

After that, the young man had given him a number and an address.

"My name's Donghyuk. Call if you need anymore help, okay?" he had said before leaving Namjoon in that alley.

At the time, past 16 year old Namjoon had though that that would be a wonderful idea, and that once he got in possession of a phone, he would call Donghyuk.

Present 17 year old Namjoon had different thoughts.

Donghyuk had obviously been a mutant, one that knew what he was doing at that. He had given Namjoon a number and an address which, when Namjoon checked, was in Seoul. Namjoon was not in Seoul, he was in Ilsan.

He told himself that he should just take the bus to get to Seoul, but no matter how logical and normal of a way that was, he didn't want to, and that was the problem.

Donghyuk was a skilled mutant, one who could use his powers well and who obviously wanted Namjoon for something. There was no foundation for Namjoon to trust him, he would probably be outmatched if it turned sour, and he definitely wasn't ready to find out why Donghyuk had given him that piece of paper.

It was decided. He would not call Donghyuk or take the bus to go to the address he was given.

-

Two weeks later he had packed his bags and was dialling a series of number on his phone.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, Donghyuk. It's Namjoon."


End file.
